by Cora Seton
The cottage was furnished much like Westfield was with a mixture of antiques from several eras. “Dinner will be served in half an hour,” Maud said. “Until then, let’s gather in the parlor. Perhaps I could prevail on one of you ladies to play a piece or two on my piano to pass the time while we wait?”
Riley and the others exchanged looks. Maud seemed determined to run this evening according to Regency rules. “Savannah plays,” Riley said.
“I’m horribly out of practice,” Savannah protested.
“Nonsense, my dear, you’re among friends,” Maud said.
Riley noticed that Savannah’s eyes lit up when she spotted the grand piano at one end of the parlor. She needed no more encouragement before she hurried over to the instrument and sat down. She’d been delighted to find the baby grand at Westfield, but the tuner wouldn’t arrive for another few days, so Riley knew her endeavors at practicing hadn’t been altogether satisfying.
Savannah sat down and let her fingers play over the keys. “Oh, it’s wonderful,” she exclaimed.
“Play something merry,” Maud said.
“Okay.” Savannah thought for a minute. “How about this?” She started to play a rather raucous march, and Maud laughed.
“Just the thing! We could almost dance to that.”
“Bravo! Splendid!” James said, coming into the parlor with Boone trailing close behind.
Savannah stopped playing, but James would have none of that. “Carry on, carry on.” She started up again.
“We were just discussing dancing,” Maud told him.
“Good exercise, dancing,” James said. “Do you dance?” he asked Boone.
Boone made a face. “Only at gunpoint.”
James roared with laughter and led Boone to sit on the couch next to Riley.
“Does anyone else play an instrument?” Maud asked. “I have it in mind to organize a musical evening here at Coldfield.”
“I play guitar,” Avery said.
“I play a little piano,” Riley said. “Nothing like Savannah, though.” She nodded at her friend who had switched to something light and lively she couldn’t identify.
“I don’t play anything,” Nora said.
“How about you?” Maud fixed a challenging gaze on Boone.
“I know a little.” He stood and crossed the room to the piano. Savannah immediately ceased playing again. Murmuring some words to her, Boone sat down next to her when she scooted over on the bench. Riley’s heart contracted at the picture they presented, Savannah with a faint flush on her cheeks from the exertion of playing and Boone leaning in close to whisper in her ear.
“Perhaps we mistook the object of his affections after all,” Maud observed to her husband. “Look at the attention he shows her.”
Despite all her attempts to ignore it, jealousy simmered just below Riley’s heart. When Boone stopped whispering and pulled back, Savannah laughed and both of them lifted their hands to the keys. Riley expected a silly version of chopsticks, so she was as surprised as anyone when the two began a complicated classical duet that took her breath away. The music—passionate and stirring—transported her, but the ugly feeling remained curled tightly in her gut. Savannah looked so right sitting next to Boone, and they were both smiling as they played, building up to a huge crescendo that had Riley’s heart pounding.
She’d forgotten that Boone’s mother had forced him to take music lessons for years. He had always claimed he hated it and he’d never touched the instrument in the summers when she was there. He must have been fonder of it than he’d admitted. Or else simply a good student.
Riley felt like she’d lost something precious before she’d even known she’d had it. How could Boone not sense a kind of kinship with Savannah that he didn’t have with her? And how could he ignore Savannah’s loveliness when he sat right next to her, their shoulders brushing and their hands intermingling on the piano?
She wished she’d paid more attention to her lessons when she was a child.
When the song concluded, everyone in the audience clapped and cheered, even Riley, although she felt like slipping out the front door and running for home. Surely now Boone would realize he’d picked the wrong woman. He escorted Savannah back to her seat and Maud gestured to Riley. “Your turn, my dear. Play for us.”
The last thing Riley wanted to do was to compete with the stunning performance Savannah and Boone had just presented, but she knew she couldn’t refuse. So she dutifully stood up, smoothed her skirts and made her way to the piano, trying to ignore the pit in her stomach. Thank goodness she had the perfect piece for just such an occasion. She’d do herself credit, even if she had just watched the beginning of the end of her relationship with Boone.
It was the same song Marianne played in the modern movie version of Sense and Sensibility the first time Captain Wentworth appears. Riley had tracked down the sheet music on the Internet years ago, learned the piece by heart and taught herself to sing it like the famous actress in the movie. It was simple, yet elegant, and while she was nowhere near as accomplished as Savannah and Boone—or the actress who performed it onscreen—when she opened her mouth to sing she was gratified to hear a startled gasp from her audience, and their silence as the piece went on told her she’d chosen wisely.
After the first few measures, the song drew her in as it always did and for a moment, she forgot the pain she’d felt watching Boone and Savannah together. Here in the Russells’ parlor in the company of men and women dressed as they were, she felt as if she really had stepped back into the past and belonged there. Belonged here—singing for an appreciative audience the way Jane and her characters would have.
Something moved within her heart—as if ties that had held in her emotions for so many years loosened a little and allowed for healing. She hadn’t realized how tensely she held herself in everyday life until she relaxed, knowing that the circle of people listening supported her.
When she finished the song, she paused, just like Marianne in the movie, and she understood for the first time why Marianne had done so. To hold onto the moment—the music and the feeling that accompanied it. To savor it.
When she finally looked up, she met Boone’s gaze and what she saw there nearly overcame her. Pride and something that looked an awful lot like… love… shone back at her. Transfixed by such a startling turn of events, she didn’t notice Maud bustling forward until the older woman hovered over her.
“That was marvelous. Play another one,” Maud exhorted her.
“I’m sorry. That’s the only one I know by heart.” She stood up and made her way back to her seat, conscious of Boone’s gaze tracking her the whole way.
Chapter Nine
‡
BOONE ENJOYED THE dinner far more than he’d expected. He liked the Russells, but had expected to be put off by their lavish lifestyle. Instead, he’d been charmed by their sincere delight in entertaining Riley and her friends.
He was impressed by Savannah’s prowess at the piano. Music lessons had been non-negotiable in his household and he had studied the instrument until a final ugly rebellion at sixteen ended them. He was accomplished, but Savannah was obviously an expert. He had a healthy respect for anyone who transcended mere capability and actually brought passion to their playing. He enjoyed sitting down to play a duet with her—one he couldn’t believe he could still play after all this time.
It was obvious to him when Riley followed their performance that she feared she would come out the worse in a comparison with Savannah. As someone who’d struggled to become as competent as he was, he felt for her, so when she sat down and began to play he was relieved that she didn’t stumble and stutter through the piece. The only thing worse than being forced to play unprepared was to watch someone else do so, red-faced with humiliation. He smiled and relaxed, happy for the chance to watch her.
Then she began to sing.
She might as well have punched him in the gut. Boone had no idea that Riley could sing. Every syllable of her song
reached into him, tangled its hand into his basest emotions and twisted until he was no longer his own man. Each note threaded a new connection between the two of them he knew would never be severed. How could something as simple as a woman’s voice create so much havoc in his heart?
The old-fashioned melody rose and fell, as did Riley’s hands on the keyboard. There was something pure about her voice and about her manner, too. It heartened him. Surely a woman who could appreciate such simplicity would one day see that his plans for his community made sense.
He also had to acknowledge that the experience wouldn’t be quite the same without the beautiful trappings. The song would have touched his heart no matter when or where he heard it, but the dress she wore, her elegant hairstyle, the room full of antiques framing her, all made the experience that much more special.
He wouldn’t trade these few minutes of beauty for a working windmill, he realized. Someday his community’s get-togethers would be just as memorable—he hoped—but this one would forever stand out as a special moment in time.
Everyone clapped heartily when Riley finished and she gave a little curtsy when she stood up from the instrument. When a woman Boone didn’t recognize in a plain, dark blue gown and a voluminous white apron edged into the parlor and announced that dinner was served, his surprise was echoed on the others’ faces.
“Thank you, Mrs. Wood,” Maud said and stood up to usher them into the dining room. “Mrs. Wood cooks for us several days of the week,” she explained. “She has a fine touch with pastry and chicken. I’m afraid I never quite became the cook I wanted to be. Plus it allows me more time to talk with our guests when I’m not stuck in the kitchen.”
“That sounds like a wonderful arrangement,” Avery said.
The dining room was large and formal, and Boone helped James hand the ladies into their chairs, appreciating for the first time in his life the formal gesture when it gave him the excuse to touch Riley briefly. He sat down between her and Savannah before Avery or Nora could slip into the seat.
“Tell us more about this community of yours,” Maud said to Boone as Mrs. Wood set the food on the table. At least the Russells hadn’t hired footmen and butlers too, he thought.
“I can sum it up by telling you the four guiding principles on which I’m founding it.”
“Guiding principles! Imagine that,” James said.
Boone prevented himself from rolling his eyes. James must have sensed he was getting too far into character. He cleared his throat a couple of times, took a drink of water and settled back to listen.
“I refer to the principles whenever I’m making a plan or a purchase, or even setting a goal. I ask myself, is this absolutely necessary?” He held up one finger. “Ninety percent of the time the answer to that question is no. Cutting out everything that isn’t absolutely necessary could probably solve most of the world’s environmental problems by itself.” He held up another finger. “Can I accomplish this with less? I find if I put a little thought into my plans I can get by using far fewer resources than I would have if I rushed into them.” Another finger went up. “How many people will this benefit? If it’s only me, why am I doing it? If it’s only a small group of people, like my family, again maybe it’s time to reconsider. If it will truly benefit a lot of people, then it’s more likely to be a good idea. And four.” He held up another finger. “What will its impact be on the planet, both locally and globally?”
“So where does art, literature and music fit in?” Riley asked.
“I haven’t really thought about them,” Boone said. “Those aren’t necessities—”
“They are to me.”
“But they come long after things like food, shelter and clothing. My community is intended to show how few things we really need. You’re talking about luxuries.”
“That explains those little hovels you’re building down by the barns. Who are you going to get to live in those boxes? No woman in her right mind would be caught dead in a cage like that!”
“Plenty of women will want to live in them.” He frowned at her. She was going to be one of them. She had to know that.
“Name one!”
As the seconds ticked by, Riley surveyed him with an air of triumph. She knew she’d caught him. He couldn’t name her—he’d promised to keep their engagement a secret. And he didn’t have any other women lined up.
“You can’t, can you?”
“Not at the moment,” he was forced to concede. “But I will soon.”
“Not if you keep calling art and literature luxuries.”
Boone reached under the table, clamped his hand down on her knee and squeezed it through the delicate fabric of her dress. Riley inhaled sharply. “There are all sorts of benefits to sharing a small space with an interested man. I bet if you try you can imagine one or two of them.” He slid his hand a fraction of an inch higher on her thigh, caressed her, and let go again.
“Sex isn’t enough to keep people happy,” she retorted. “It takes many things to make a well-rounded life.”
“Not so many things that you require a mansion in which to store them.”
Riley opened her mouth to answer, but Nora beat her to it. “Riley doesn’t need a mansion. She’s the one who came up with rule number two. Our rule number two,” she clarified when Boone frowned.
“What’s your rule number two?”
“Only possess what a moderately well-off lady in Jane Austen’s time would possess. Which turns out to be far less than what we’re used to,” Avery explained. “All four of us can live on what we each used to spend alone.”
Once again the women had surprised him. “What are your other rules?”
“One,” Riley said, holding up a finger just like he had. “Is it beautiful? Two, would a Regency lady of moderate means own it? Three, will it contribute to the enjoyment of the group? Four, does it uphold our commitment to Regency living?”
“Well, there you go,” James said, unable to keep his peace any longer. “Now you and I will have to come up with principles, Maud, my dear. It seems to be all the rage this year.”
“I already know our principles,” she replied, passing him a platter of chicken. “One, is it fun? Two, will we enjoy ourselves? Three, will we laugh? And four, does it involve Champagne?”
“By heavens, you’re right. Those sum us up quite tidily,” her husband said.
Boone joined in the general laughter and knew he should be grateful to his hosts for defusing a tense situation, but the truth was he would have liked to talk more about Riley’s stated principles. Once again he had the feeling they weren’t so far apart, if only she would take a minute to discuss the matter.
“When are your friends arriving at Westfield?” Maud asked him.
“Within a couple of weeks,” he said and noted the expressions of interest among the women around the table. Good, he wanted them to be interested.
“If the rest of your men are as handsome as you, they’ll make quite a splash in Chance Creek.” Maud raised her glass and took a sip of wine.
“We get first dibs, though.” Avery bit her lip as color stained her cheeks. “I mean…” She busied herself with the salad tongs.
Boone flashed her a conspiratorial smile. He couldn’t have asked for a better response. “I’m sure my men would be glad to give you first dibs.” He’d match Clay, Jericho and Walker with them as soon as his friends arrived.
“That’s enough. Just stop it.” Riley, who’d taken a sip from her water glass, thumped it on the table.
“Stop what?” Boone asked.
“Stop trying to weasel your way in among my friends and make them fall in love with you.”
He let the pause spin out before answering. “First of all, weaseling our way in is exactly what SEALs are trained to do. If we stopped, it would be detrimental to national security. Second, regardless of our skills, I don’t think we’re capable of making women fall in love—unless they want to.”
“You have a slick answer for everyth
ing, don’t you, Lieutenant Rudman?”
“I’ll always have an answer for you.”
“Is it hot in here or is it me?” Maud said, fanning herself. “Summer is definitely on its way.”
“It’s only going to get hotter, too,” Boone said with a wink at Riley. “This is Montana, after all.”
Avery took up the topic of the weather and soon they were taking turns predicting what kind of summer they’d have.
Boone slid his hand under the table again and caught Riley’s fingers in his. “Hey, are you all right?” he added in a low voice.
“It’s one thing to make me sideline my painting for six months, but don’t you dare let your friends drag mine into this. They’ve waited for years for their chance to pursue their dreams. It’s not fair of you to crush them,” she said in a whisper.
“I would never do that.”
She extricated her hand from his. “Prove it.”
SEVERAL DAYS LATER, Riley bent over a huge cauldron of water she’d spent the previous hour heating over an outdoor fire, and gingerly tested it with a fingertip. “It’s hot,” she said to Nora and Avery, who had come to take a break and chat with her. They had fallen into a routine of working in the mornings, then changing their gowns, eating an early lunch outside when the weather was fair and turning to their creative pursuits in the afternoons. Maud and James had picked up on their schedule, and tried to hold off until after four for their almost daily visits. Riley found those long, unbroken afternoons a revelation. She had so much time to paint… and to walk… and ponder, even if far too much of her time had been taken up thinking about Boone.
He tended to appear in the evenings with a request for her company. Sometimes they hung out with her friends, sometimes they walked and watched the sunset. Once, when it rained, they’d played cards for hours at the bunkhouse. They’d been reserved the first night after the Russells’ dinner party, but Boone had apologized for what he’d said about the arts, and Riley had forgiven him, though she still thought Boone ranked their creative pursuits far below the work he was doing down at Base Camp, as he called it. She understood why a man like Boone might think so after everything he’d seen during his time in the military, but it made it hard to trust that they could create a marriage that suited them equally.